


The better gift for the worst Valentine's day

by Imjohnlocked87



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Caring Sherlock Holmes, Established Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Flu, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, Love, M/M, Sherlock Holmes Has a Heart, Sick John Watson, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:22:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22734763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imjohnlocked87/pseuds/Imjohnlocked87
Summary: John has the flu on Valentine's Day. Sherlock and Dr. Rosie Watson will help him celebrate it.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 65





	The better gift for the worst Valentine's day

"Happy Valentine, John" Sherlock gently rubbed the bottom of a glass of water on John's forehead, who groaned in relief while throwing a murderous smile to the detective, for how ironic the statement sounded in his situation.

He caught the flu three days ago while dealing in the clinic with the flu season. He had been in bed ever since, with a fever and aching body. His head was about to explode; he couldn't breathe through his nose due to the congestion, and every time he breathed through his mouth, his throat burned as if someone scraped it with sandpaper.

He grunted, sitting on the bed.

"I don't see what's so happy about it," he asked in a raspy voice

"We are celebrating it together."

"Did you take the time to look at me?"

Sherlock nodded

"You are a crossbreed between Rudolph and a hibernating grumpy bear." 

He leaned to kiss John's lips. The doctor quickly turned his face away

"Sherlock, you can't kiss me with the flu."

"Why not? I won't get sick".

"First of all, that is just plain stupid. Secondly, if you pass it on to Rosie, I'll kill you".

"You would sound much more threatening without that nasal voice" Sherlock joked and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. John looked at him and shook his head.

"What do you want for dinner?"

"Nothing, I just want to lie here and die peacefully."

"Who is the Drama Queen now?"

John sighed, but he couldn't help smiling. Sherlock was funny in his role as a bossy nurse. And, frankly speaking, since he knew him, the detective had never been sick. He'd been beaten, stabbed, and shot. He even died and rose again to death. He had fallen and broken bones, but never got sick, not even when John came from the clinic carrying all kinds of germs.

John was upset because he wanted this Valentine's Day to be different. So he told Sherlock in a whiny voice.

Sherlock smirked.

"Well, certainly, it is different, you can't deny it."

John chucked sadly. 

"But, our day is ruined."

"Who said it is ruined?"

"Sherlock, look at me. I can't get near you; I can't get near Rosie. I have a fever, and I keep sneezing and coughing. Can you explain to me how we're going to celebrate anything when I' m like this?"

"Of course I can" Sherlock got out of bed, walked to the door, and cleared his throat.

"Dr. Watson, please meet Dr. Rosie."

Nobody showed up at the door.

The detective hawked again.

"Dr. Watson, please meet Dr. Rosie," announced louder.

A minute later, Rosie appeared, wrapped in a blue sterile surgical gown so long that it reached her feet. The sleeves had been folded several times to fit her little arms and ended up in hands wrapped in sterile gloves. She was also wearing a high protection mask with a filter that covered all the lower part of her face and a surgery cap decorated with different colored flowers.

She went into the bedroom and turned on herself, excited.

"Look, Daddy! I'm a doctor, like you!"

John smiled fondly, looking at their four-year-old daughter. He could not help but feel a twinge of emotion when he saw her dressed as a surgeon, as he had done so many times before being shot in Afghanistan. Not that he mainly wanted Rosie to follow in his footsteps, but he couldn't help but get his hopes up.

Rosie ran to her father and kissed him through the mask. John made sure there was no possibility of infection and embraced her. Rosie hugged him back and then jumped out of bed, holding his hand and pulling him.

"Come, Daddy, Papa prepared dinner" the voice of the girl behind the mask, with a slight resemblance to Darth Vader's, made them both smile.

John looked at the detective, who shook his head slightly and mouthed "Angelo"

John put on the gown and the surgical mask Sherlock gave him and followed them into the dining room. Sherlock had emptied the kitchen table and brought it by the fire so that John was warm and comfortable. On a white tablecloth decorated with red hearts chosen by Rosie, as John would later know, were set two plates, a mug, and a soup tureen. The doctor looked inquisitively at Sherlock.

"There is no possible way to reconcile eating with the mask. That's why Rosie has already had dinner, right?" the girl nodded vehemently, "but she will have hot chocolate with us."

"And how will she take the chocolate, genius? By osmosis?"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, without bothering to reply. He and Rosie disappeared for a moment in the kitchen, and soon the girl returned with a new mask, in which Sherlock had drilled a hole to introduce a straw and had sealed it so that it was watertight, which gave the girl an air of a little elephant that made John laugh, amused.

Angelo prepared soft chicken soup, without spices, so that the doctor's throat wouldn't suffer, accompanied by orange juice instead of wine. The strangest Valentine's Day dinner anyone had ever had, but certainly, the best anyone had ever enjoyed, even when John had to get up and put the mask back on after every spoonful he took.

Once they finished the soup and Rosie her hot chocolate cup, the little girl looked at Sherlock inquisitively, and the detective nodded.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Daddy," said Rosie holding an envelope for him.

John opened it and smiled. It was a picture of Sherlock and he took by Lestrade after a press conference at Scotland Yard. They were sitting behind a table, one of those few days John, instead of his jumpers, was wearing a black suit like Sherlock. Rosie had decorated it with pink hearts, yellow stars, and little pink flowers.

"Do you like it?" asked the girl, anxiously, swinging her little trumpet.

"I love it, thank you, darling. The perfect gift for a perfect Valentine's Day," replied the doctor, kissing her, and the girl smiled broadly.

"I've chosen the picture," intervened Sherlock, contrite.

"Don't get jealous," giggled John, kissing his lips, and Sherlock smiled in the same way as Rosie.

The doctor started coughing, and Sherlock stood up.

"Time to go back to bed" ordered the detective.

John protested in the same way as Rosie did when he told her that same sentence every night, but the detective, ignoring his protests, led him to bed, and tucked him in.

"As soon as I put Rosie to bed, I'm coming with you."

John nodded and closed his eyes, relaxing. A little later, Sherlock came into the bedroom, undressed, put on his pyjamas, got into bed, and cuddled up next to John.

"Thank you, love," mused the doctor, "it's been a perfect Valentine's Day for three".

Sherlock chuckled

"And Rosie discovered her vocation. She wants to be a surgeon."

"Or a forensic. Have you noticed she looked a bit like Anderson?" teased John.

"John, I'm going to throw up the soup."

The doctor turned out the light, grinning mischievously.

In the darkness, Sherlock sneezed.

"God rest our souls," wailed the doctor.

**Author's Note:**

> I spent Valentine's day in bed with flu, so I decided to improve my mood with this one-shot. I know I'm late, but yesterday my brain was too congested to edit 😊


End file.
